


Ghosts of a Memory

by happydaygirl



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, Returning to Malta (The Old Guard)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happydaygirl/pseuds/happydaygirl
Summary: 1939, Malta-A young boy sits on the beach, practising his drawing skills, when he notices two men further down and decides to draw them. Now its 2020 and, now an old man, he comes back for a final visit. He doesn't expect to see the same two men from all those years ago...
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 24
Kudos: 185





	Ghosts of a Memory

July, 1939. Valetta, Malta

The heat of the day beat down on Mattias as he sat against the promenade wall- the sand, hot and grainy, enveloped the skin on his feet and between his toes as he pushed them into the dunes. The sound of the sea lapping against the sea defences always calmed him and made him feel contented, and the previous day’s storm had guaranteed large, crashing waves, filling his ears comfortingly.

He looked up as his brothers and cousins ran down to the shoreline, laughing and boisterously charging at one another in the waves.

His birthday the previous day was one he would never forget, not least because Alessia had smiled at him for the first time. He smiled as he remembered the sun shining through her hair, her beautiful face bathed in golden light.

He drew out his bag and pulled out his sketchpad and small box of pencils- a birthday gift he knew his parents had worked hard to provide. His cheeks burnt slightly as he remembered his eldest cousin’s scathing words as he unwrapped it. ‘Thirteen years old and you got him a sketchpad?!’

Truth was, he was always more interested in people watching rather than joining in- something his mother found endearing in him, and something that his father frequently lamented, worried that his son wasn’t developing like the other boys.

He was only young, but he knew what he wanted in life- he wanted to be an artist. Popping open the pencil box he looked round for a subject; people were his speciality. When he was younger he was only able to draw stick figures, or two dimensional faces and grotesque, fat bodies.

Now, after spending the summer watching the seafront artists ply their trade to tourists he had learned a few tricks; his old, broken pencils had not helped him much, but he had got the hang of some of the finer techniques- now to put them into action.

Flipping open the first crisp page of his sketchpad his eyes finally settled on two men also sitting with their backs to the promenade, further down the beach. They were sitting on a blanket, a brown picnic basket between them.

Both of them had short, cropped hair that the soldiers, now more frequent in his country, liked to wear. They sat close together, talking with their heads almost touching.

He began to sketch, drawing a rough form of their bodies- long strokes at first, before he shaded in the darker man’s face and hair.

He smiled as he watched them talk, although he could not make out any words; they seemed very close, even for the soldiers that walked up and down the roads nowadays. He looked up as the blond man threw his head back in laughter- the way the other man looked at him made Mattias stare.

Working quickly now, he drew in their faces- he didn’t want them to walk away, to leave his picture unfinished.

Looking up again he saw with a sense of sadness that the two of them were now packing up- as the blond men gathered his military jacket, flinging it over his shoulder, the other man caught his hand, his fingers lingering over his skin.

Again Mattias stared, he could not help himself- he had seen the way the baker and the shopkeeper in his small hamlet looked at each when they thought no one else was watching. He wondered if these two men felt the same about each other.

He looked around, suddenly nervous for the two men as the beach got busier- he did not see a problem; love was love, no matter who it was with. His father vehemently disagreed, as did most of the other people in his life. No one else seemed to pay them any mind; he sat back, finishing his shading as the two men ambled off, the picnic basket dangling from the long slender fingers of the darker man. Mattias sat back, content with his work. He looked up as military aircraft flew overhead- a British plane, heading to the airbase further inland.

War was a constant worry to all of them- it was not far away from them now, his father had warned. They had to be ready to do their duty- he was too young to do anything of use being only thirteen, but his brothers and cousins were of age. He looked over at them, for the first time appreciating the innocence of the scene as they splashed in the surf; his mother had always said he was an old head on young shoulders, and he agreed with her.

Sitting up, his hugged his knees closer, trying to keep his worries at bay, sand flicking onto the pages of his sketch as he watched his brother’s play.

* * *

Early September, 2020. Valetta, Malta

The shoreline was the same. The waves crashing against the sand was the same, as he knew they would be.

Using his walking stick as a guide, he moved his way slowly to the beach, ignoring the locals trying to ply their wares, as well as the multitude of tourists moving around like busy clouds.

He closed his eyes as the sun warmed his face- it was good to be home, finally after all these years.

‘Grandpa?’ Angela, his oldest great-grandchild looked up with earnest eyes. ‘Is it like you remember?’

Mattias smiled as an answer, nodding slowly as he took in the sights. He looked across as he felt a hand, warm and comforting, envelope his own. Alessia rested her head against his shoulder; he kissed her hair, hot with sunshine, beautiful as ever. ‘Just like I remember…’ he whispered only to her.

It had been many years since they had been back- a few years after the war they had moved to England; Alessia worked as a nurse, and he an engineer. They had always vowed to go back, but life had seen to it that they were only just getting around to it in their golden years.

His family were buried here, as Alessia’s had been- his brother’s empty war graves filled their plot in the local cemetery, like ghosts jutting out against the green of the land.

Two weeks of sun and nostalgia- just what they needed; he had enjoyed showing his eldest son and his family where their heritage came from. Some things had changed- how could they not have?- but lots of things had stayed the same, soothing his soul as he recounted memories from years gone past.

‘Lets sit for a while. I’ll fetch us some ice cream,’ Angela smiled, tenderly pressing her hands against his before she moved off.

He sat heavily on the stone wall, smiling against the sun as he caught his breath. He grasped Alessia’s hand again with his own, squeezing lightly as he cast his eyes along the promenade; he frowned as his eyes caught two men sitting together on a bench a little further on from where he was sitting, polystyrene cups of coffee in each of their hands.

They sat close together, their bodies pressed against each other as they sat- Mattias stared, oblivious to anyone else as the world continued spinning around him.

They seemed oddly familiar, as if he remembered them from a past life, or perhaps a dream. He shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun as the two men spoke; suddenly something clicked into his stomach as one of them, a lean blond man with fluffy hair, threw his head back and laughed at something the darker man next to him had said; he watched as they clasped hands, before the blond man pressed a kiss to the other man’s head, eyes closed at the embrace.

Dejavu flashed in his head- but it had been years. Years and years- there was no way it could be the same men he had seen and drawn as a child. Perhaps they were grandchildren, or just people that looked alarmingly like them. He watched as the blond man drew an arm around the other, pulling him close and pressing their heads together as they talked and laughed.

‘Mattias?’ he looked across at Alessia as her voice floated into his consciousness. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Hmm?’ he smiled at her, rubbing his thumb along the skin of the back of her hand, catching on her wedding ring as he did so. ‘I’m fine, I just thought I saw-‘ he faltered as he looked up, at the now empty bench.

‘Huh.’ He said, frowning again. Strange.

‘What’s wrong, my love?’

‘Nothing, nothing…’ he waved away her concern gently, eyes still on the empty bench. Perhaps he had imagined it, perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe being back here after all these years had called back ghosts of his past.

‘Sure?’

‘Positive- here comes Angela with the ice cream!’ he smiled- they both looked up as she approached, ice creams in hand. Accepting it from her, he looked over at the bench one last time. He shrugged to himself- perhaps he would never know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think!


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